


comfort me, save me

by stropsian



Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marcassin has PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sleep Deprivation, has ni no kuni ds characters, like rip boy fucks up once and, now he's fucked up, towards the end though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stropsian/pseuds/stropsian
Summary: Marcassin had never been scared of thunderstorms before.
Relationships: Lars | Marcassin/Micah, Marcassin/Micah
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	comfort me, save me

**Author's Note:**

> I am once again making Marcassin suffer.  
> Ivory Scepter cult forgive me. I am simply vibing and just think that if Marcassin had feelings for a dude, it would be Micah from the nnk ds version.

Marcassin had never been scared of thunderstorms before. He actually enjoyed the sky emitting loud and powerful sounds, the sounds of heavy rain as it the ceiling or the group, the sound of lightning crackling as the storm got heavier and louder. Storms meant he got to stay inside as a kid, and storms meant that the day after would leave puddles for him and Gascon to play in, if Gascon was in the mood.

Everything about them feels like a nightmare now, and Marcassin wishes he never has to witness a single thunderstorm again.

Ever since he and the younger duo had defeated Porco Loco and returned back to the Iron Wyvern with Swaine’s dead body, Marcassin had slipped ever further under than he already had. The crew on board, including Kublai, were left in shock and had been bombarding him with questions about his brother, and every question dug into him like a thousand knives and eventually he broke, falling onto his knees, burying his face into his hands and sobbing loudly. That night he practically confessed to murder, saying it was an accident and that the attack hit the wrong person and that he was a monster and that-

Marcassin had passed out in the middle of his sentence, to which Kublai had offered to carry him to his room. The boy was put into his bed, where he stayed asleep for the next few days. When he had awoken, he decided that he wouldn’t leave his room for any reason. He knew that if he went outside, he wouldn’t be able to look the kids in the eyes (or anyone really, but he kept telling himself it was only the kids). The way they looked at him directly after they had defeated Porco Loco, the way Oliver had trembled and stuttered as he asked Marcassin to carry Swaine’s lifeless body back to the Iron Wyvern, the way Esther wouldn’t look at him directly or stand near him, how neither of them had looked at him on the way back. It was tearing away at him in a way he couldn’t comprehend. 

Every day he would get some of the crew coming in to check in on him, and sometimes Kublai or Pea would come to his door to keep him company. Out of all of the days he had locked himself away in his room, neither Oliver nor Esther had visited him, come to talk to him or keep him company while he was in his near catatonic state. 

Were they scared of him?

With all this extra free time he had gained from being in a state of grief and guilt, it was one of the only things he was able to think about. Oliver was the kind of kid to always check on people and help them if they needed it, but neither him nor Esther had come to check on him. They must think of him as a monster, right? They knew Swaine better than they knew him, and were closer with Swaine than they were with him, too. The passing of his brother probably affected them more than it had affected him as well, as they were so much younger than him, and they knew so much more about Swaine than he did anyways. He knew Gascon, but he didn’t have enough time to get close with Swaine. He never would.

He couldn’t tell if the way the kids had been avoiding him was making this easier or harder. On one hand, he didn’t have to look directly at them or feel terrified of messing up around them, but at the same time he missed them and craved some type of closure with them, he wanted to make it up to them and he didn’t want them to hate him forever or feel scared of him. He didn’t know how he would make it better, he didn’t know if he could, but he was going to try when they came to visit him. If they ever do, that is.

Despite his desires for closure and comfort, he never left his room. Every time he got up to leave, his hands would stop themselves before he could turn the doorknob. Every time he got close to the door, a sinking feeling would arise in his stomach, getting worse as he got closer and closer until he just couldn’t handle it. So his routine continued, with him only talking to anyone who came to him first, and sleeping each day away. 

One night, though, he found the courage to come out of his room. Not exactly by his own will, but he knew that he couldn’t stay in his room if he wanted to get better. 

About a week or two into Marcassin’s near catatonic state, the Iron Wyvern had flown very close to a few storm clouds. Normally, Marcassin wouldn’t have minded, he was particularly gifted with storm magic and often found comfort in storms. However, when he heard the first crackle of lightning, he felt his body involuntarily freeze, like he was paralyzed. For a moment, he felt like he was back in his castle fighting Porco Loco, and that he had just casted Thunderstorm, his brother's lifeless body filling his mind immediately after. He didn’t realize that his breathing had sped up until he had come back out of his thoughts. The moment after, he could hear the sound of rain hitting the top of the Iron Wyvern, and it reminded him of how the rain sounded hitting the ground in the palace.

He knew after that, in order to get through the night, that he was going to need to spend the night with someone else. 

He quickly got up from his bed, making his way quickly to the door before he stopped. Who was he supposed to go to? He wasn’t exactly close with anyone on board, and anybody he knew would be good at comforting him was completely ignoring him and-

Micah!

Marcassin had brought the leader of his personal guard with him when he was bringing refugees onto the Iron Wyvern, and he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about Micah beforehand. He was particularly close with Micah, maybe it was just his low self esteem talking? Either way, Micah would know how to help him. As the leader of his personal guard, Micah had helped him with a lot of his personal needs and emotional issues when he was heartbroken, and had been one of his frequent visitors while the other was in his near catatonic state.

He quickly turned the doorknob, pushing his door open and looking around the living quarters. It seemed to be nighttime, as it was dark, but Marcassin hadn’t left his room in weeks, so he couldn’t tell. Which room was Micah’s room again? Kublai had told him which room was his (a smug grin on his face, but Marcassin didn’t know why, Kublai had dismissed his questions) during their first night on the Iron Wyvern. A light bulb suddenly lit up in his head as he remembered that Micah’s room was the one closest to his. Another loud roar of thunder could be heard, and Marcassin felt absolutely terrified as he made his way to Micah’s room. He wished his brain would let him stop thinking about what happened in the castle for a little longer than a few minutes at a time. When he got there, he realized how much of a disaster he was at the moment. He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, and a pool of heat swirling around in his chest and stomach. He knocked on Micah’s door loudly, his hands shaky and his anxiety rising in his chest with every moment that passed while he waited.

The door opened to a tired Micah, but that expression immediately changed when he realized who was in front of him. “Your...Your Majesty!” he stuttered out, looking down at the boy in front of him, “it’s rather late in the night, is everything alright?” If Marcassin could speak right now, he would have said that was a stupid question, but he couldn’t speak. He could feel a tightness in his throat that made him feel like he wasn’t able to say a word, so he just shook his head and looked down. Micah looked nervous, and Marcassin couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better if he had just stayed in his room.

“Well, would you like to come in?” Micah asked softly, his expression turning into one of sympathy. His demeanor had shifted slightly, and Marcassin was either too unfocused or too terrified to think of a reason why. All he could do was nod as Micah stepped aside for Marcassin, walking inside and already feeling slightly comforted, but not by much. 

He didn’t know what to do now. When he was in Hamelin, both heartbroken and not, he had never found it in himself to actually ask for anyone to comfort him. He remembered not believing that he was good enough to ask for it, and even now, he still didn’t think he should ask for it, monsters don’t get to feel sad. Whenever Marcassin got any type of comfort, it was because Micah was near and could sense something was up. Now that he's thinking about it, Marcassin assumed that’s why his demeanor changed. Micah was always a kind person, and was able to tell if something was wrong. He could probably tell it was worse this time, too. 

What was he supposed to do? He wanted help, that he knew, but he had never asked for it before. Maybe he had when he was younger, but he didn’t want to think about when he was younger right now. Before Marcassin could think about anything else, he wrapped his arms around Micah, holding onto him tightly as he buried his face into the other’s neck. Micah was in a state of confusion and shock, but pushed those feelings away and hugged Marcassin back. It’s what he needed right now, after all, and as the head of Marcassin’s personal guard, it was his duty.

All Marcassin could do though was cry. It wasn’t loud in the slightest, it honestly sounded more like whimpering than an actual sob, but he was holding back. He didn’t want to scare Micah away right now, that was probably what he wanted the _least._ Micah was probably the only person on board who would put up with him. Oliver and Esther were ignoring him, Kublai would probably be angry or tell him to go to bed, he wasn’t going to wake up Pea, and everyone else on board he felt wasn’t close enough with him to know about how he felt.

A few moments later, Micah began to pull away slowly. This only made Marcassin hold on tighter, though. He finally started breaking down even worse, now sobbing and begging Micah not to leave him. He was terrified that Micah was going to tell him to let him go back to bed, going to tell him that everything he felt right now was his fault, that he didn’t deserve kindness, that he was a monster and didn’t deserve comfort, that-

“Your Majesty, can you let go of me for a minute? I’m not going to leave you, and I’m not going to tell you any of that, I promise,” Micah said softly. Marcassin took a minute before he realized he had said everything out loud in his panic, and he could feel his face flush slightly in embarrassment. He really wished that Micah would stop calling him “Your Majesty,” it was a title he didn’t deserve, and they were close enough that he didn’t have to call Marcassin by such a formal title. Marcassin let go of Micah, and Micah took hold of his hand as he led them to the side of Micah’s bed, sitting down with Marcassin sitting right next to him.

“Don’t call me that,” Marcassin whispered. He felt like he was having an out of body experience, his voice felt like it just wasn’t his. “Don’t call you what, Your Majesty?” Micah asked as he rubbed circles into Marcassin’s hand. Marcassin could feel himself relax slightly, and he could feel his throat loosening up again. Like he could finally breathe.

“Call me Marcassin, please. There is.. there’s no need for such formal titles.” Even when Marcassin was in the middle of a breakdown, the way he spoke was always so formal. “Of course, Your... of course, Marcassin,” Micah replied softly, “do you want to talk about what happened? You were crying when you came in, and it’s only gotten worse.”

Did he want to talk about it? He was feeling better just by being in the company of another person, did he need to tell Micah about his personal problems? That wasn’t exactly what he came here for. Then again, Micah deserved to know why Marcassin had come to his room, late at night and crying his eyes out, so he decided that he should. 

“There’s a storm going on outside,” Marcassin said, doing his best to keep it vague. Micah didn’t have to know all of the small details, but he could know that the thunderstorm going on outside was freaking him out. He didn’t need to know the reason. In response, Micah gave him a sympathetic look. “Is that so? Well, I assume that the storm isn’t going to go away soon,” Micah said, “do you have any idea why the storm scared you?”

Marcassin let out a nervous laugh, looking away slightly to avoid looking at Micah directly. Marcassin was very confused, was his distress that noticeable? He surely hoped not, being so vulnerable has left him with a lot of mixed emotions. “I think I do have an idea,” he admitted, “but I don’t know if I should tell. I do not wish to bother you with my own… feelings.” Micah just chuckled at this and sighed. “Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I promise it’ll make you feel better if you do,” he said, “trust me. My little sister always said she didn’t want to bother me with her feelings, but she always felt better when she did.”

His sister. Marcassin was so caught up in saving Micah that he completely forgot to try and save his sister. He really was a selfish monster, he should have tried to save her. Even though she’s alright now that Pea had purified the manna crystal, he still couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. He really was awful, a complete mess of a human being who didn’t deserve his title or his friends or anything he had right now-

Micah must have seen the impending mental breakdown written on Marcassin’s face, because the pace of him rubbing circles into Marcassin’s hand had become slightly faster. “Hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything. Is there anything I could do to help you?” Micah’s voice was soft and smooth as he spoke, turning the two of them so they were facing each other. It had only now clicked that he knew how to handle these situations so well _because_ of his sister and it only made him feel worse. “I feel exhausted,” Marcassin admitted, “would it be okay if I laid down?” This was followed by a short nod from Micah, who got up from where he was sitting and grabbed a chair, pulling it over to the side of the bed. Despite being confused about why Micah was bringing a chair over, he got himself comfortable in Micah’s bed, practically making a cocoon out of the blankets.

Micah took a seat in the chair as soon as he saw that Marcassin was comfortable in his bed. Marcassin tilted his head slightly in confusion. “Are you okay with that?” he asked as his facial expression turned into one of worry and guilt, “there’s enough room for the two of us, don’t let me push you out of your own bed because I’m the prince.” Micah shook his head, his face flushing slightly as he looked down at Marcassin. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll come to bed whenever you fall asleep,” Micah replied, chuckling as he shook his head, “do you think you want to talk about what is bothering you?” 

Oh yeah, he forgot about that. 

“Ah, right. I apologize for not telling you sooner, I suppose I am just worried about how you will react,” Marcassin said, covering part of his face with his hand, “it’s just… the sounds of the storm remind me of what happened in the castle, and I keep remembering everything that happened. I’ve been… thinking about how bad of a person I am, and I’ve been seeing quite a lot of… a lot of bad things and...and I…” Marcassin then trailed off as he hid his face fully, too scared and embarrassed to look at Micah. What would Micah think of him, crying like a baby about something he caused himself?

“That’s understandable.” With that, Marcassin paused in confusion, moving one of his hands away from his face to look at Micah. The other boy was looking down at him, and he was smiling sadly. “What you told us sounded very traumatic, Marcassin. I’d be worried if you didn’t feel like this,” Micah began, “you aren’t a bad person for making a mistake. Even if that mistake was big…” Micah then trailed off, as he became lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Marcassin couldn’t tell if he felt better or worse, though. He’s glad that Micah wasn’t lying to him, about it being a big mistake, but he didn’t know if he wanted to hear that right now. He knew that he needed to hear it at some point, but he assumed that part came later. 

“Forgive me, Marcassin,” Micah said, “that’s probably not helpful. Once you learn how to overcome that mistake and prove to everyone that you have gotten past that mistake and are still a good person.” Marcassin nodded in reply, thinking to himself for a moment. “How do I do that?” he asked quietly. He didn’t really think he _could_ redeem himself after what happened. All he has done in his life is bring others down, make the people in his kingdom suffer, and kill off his own brother. He was by no means redeemable, at least not right now.

“Well, you can start off by talking to the kids,” Micah said, “they’ve been worried about you but have been too scared to check up on you. If you can make them not scared of you, I’d say that would be a good place to start.” So Marcassin’s suspicions were correct after all. That wasn’t helping his conscience in the slightest, but he nodded as a signal for Micah to continue. “You can rebuild Hamelin and make it a great kingdom again, which I can help you with. That’s probably the easiest thing to work on during your recovery. Finally, you need therapy.” That last thing made Marcassin slightly nervous. 

“Therapy?” he questioned, “what in the world would I need therapy for?” As a child, he was taught about every job that existed in Hamelin, and he had always been unnerved by therapists. He couldn’t imagine talking to someone about his issues, on a consistent basis. He didn’t like the idea of going to a therapist, but Micah sounded like he knew what he was talking about. 

Micah, on the other hand, almost found it humorous how much Marcassin was denying that he needed help. Almost being the keyword here, it was borderline concerning. “Well, you’ve been through some traumatizing stuff. Anybody who has gone through a lot like you have needs to see a therapist so their trauma becomes a little easier to deal with. My mom was a therapist, and I’ve seen a lot of people become so much happier because of it.” Of course Micah has experience with this kind of stuff, it made sense for him to know so much about it. 

“...I’ll try to do all of that, if it will help,” Marcassin replied, yawning. Now that he had calmed down (talking about what was on his mind had helped him, just like Micah said), the exhaustion he felt had finally sunk into him. “I’m scared to, but I will. ...Please don’t make me do it alone,” Marcassin said, barely above a whisper. Micah smiled, bringing his hand to Marcassin’s head, petting his hair slightly. Marcassin tucked the warmth and joy he felt when that happened into the back of his brain for him to dissect later. 

“Of course I won’t. I’m the leader of your personal guard, after all. It’s my duty to help you!” Micah replied. Marcassin felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Was Micah only doing this because he thought he had to? That was selfish on Marcassin’s part, and he didn’t like that. “You don’t have to if you don’t wish to,” Marcassin replied, his voice quiet, “I can handle my own problems if you don’t want to.” 

Micah shook his head. “I could leave this task up to one of the other guard members, if I wished. I’m doing this because I care about you. I’m sorry for wording what I said so weirdly.” Marcassin couldn’t tell if that had helped or made it worse. Hearing from someone's mouth that they cared about him was both comforting and terrifying. What if he hurt Micah too? He’d feel worse about it. “If you insist, then I cannot deny your help. ...Thank you,” Marcassin mumbled as he turned his head again to hide his face, this time because he felt his face heat up. Micah laughed, ruffling the prince’s hair slightly. “Of course, Marcassin.” 

The prince in question was really tired now. How late was it anyways? He couldn’t tell. “May I go to bed now?” he asked, looking back at Micah sleepily, “I’m tired.” Micah nodded his head, still sitting in the chair. “Of course. Have a good night, Marcassin.” The boy nodded, a little “alright” escaping his mouth before he closed his eyes.

As he tried to fall asleep, there wasn’t much he could do to make it easier. He still felt lonely, and scared, and the sounds of thunder and lightning were still messing with him. He slowly opened his eyes to look back at Micah, who looked confused for a moment. 

“I don’t know if this is too weird of a request, but can you join me? ...I’m still scared,” Marcassin admitted. Now it was Micah’s turn to be flustered. “Oh, uh! Of...Of course, Marcassin!” he exclaimed as he got up from the chair, pulling it back to where it was previously and moving to the opposite side of the bed, laying down as Marcassin fixed the blankets so that they could both use them. Before he could think to ask, Marcassin had already rested his head on Micah’s chest, wrapping his arms around Micah’s waist. The boy in question was completely flustered, but reciprocated the gesture and wrapped his arms around Marcassin. Marcassin was a few inches shorter than Micah, making it easier for him to hold onto Micah. 

“Goodnight, Micah,” Marcassin yawned sleepily, and for the first time in the past few weeks, he felt truly safe and secure. He tucked that thought into the back of his mind as well, deciding that he would figure out what he felt later on. Micah brought his hand to the back of Marcassin’s hair, running his fingers through it. It was an oddly comforting gesture and Marcassin could already feel himself finally falling asleep.

“Goodnight, Marcassin,” Micah whispered as he closed his eyes. Marcassin was too exhausted to dwell on the fact that Micah was probably as tired as he was. All he could think about was how wonderful he felt now that he was in the arms of somebody else, someone who truly cared for him. He felt the same way, too, when he woke up in the morning, his entire body entangled around the other boy. 

If Marcassin had to pick a day to call the best day of his life, the night before was definitely his top pick. At least for now. With Micah’s help, he would have more good days to come.


End file.
